


Intoxication

by CoralFlowerBad (CoralFlower)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (it's pretty mild tho), Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Big honkin' run on sentence right at the start, Bottom Bill Cipher, Breaking certain grammar rules for stylistic effects, Choking, Dipper being irresponsible and sleeping with Bill, Dipper being responsible and walking home instead of driving, Enthusiastic Consent, Everyone is old enough to drink legally, Human!Bill, M/M, Top Dipper Pines, flowery language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 12:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5584753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoralFlower/pseuds/CoralFlowerBad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought alcohol was a depressant, but your heart is sure beating fast, Pine Tree." You bite the inside of your cheek and glance down at his lips, which curl up into an even larger smile and he's looking at you way too knowingly for your tastes when you make eye contact again. You stutter out something noncommittal and swallow compulsively, and his eyes flick downwards for just a moment like he's just as in love with your neck as you are with his and isn't that a thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intoxication

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuickySand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickySand/gifts).



Giddiness dances clumsily around your brain, erasing the cramp in your back and convincing you the splinters you're probably getting from the tree you lean against don't hurt so badly. The liquid in the red cup in your hand sloshes over a little bit onto the ground, and you barely have the presence of mind to straighten it out. You take another gulp of your drink because why the hell not, and your eyes lock back onto Him. The whole reason you came to this damn party in the first place has fluffy hair and skin several shades darker than yours. His eyes glow almost green-brown-gold, and one is magnified just slightly by his gold-rimmed monocle. His ass looks, well, quite nice, in a pair of black jeans, but you're especially fond of the way his face looks, when the corners of his mouth quirk up and he meets your eyes from across the backyard and grins at you like he wants to _devour_ you oh _shit_ he's walking towards you and you can't stop staring and his cup has just a little bit left in it which he downs and tosses aside just as he's shoving past the last people between you and him and your gaze locks onto his throat and the way it moves as he swallows and you're staring at him and he's grinning, grinning and placing a hand on your chest and the other over yours on the cup which you were about to spill and leaning in close right against your ear, making you shiver and then just grabbing your other hand and arranging your fingers around the cup so you're holding it with both hands and then saying,  
"Don't want this to go to waste, ay?" His hand moves across your chest to rest lightly above your heart, the beat of which you hear in the blood vessels in your ears. He raises an eyebrow, adding, "I thought alcohol was a depressant, but your heart is sure beating fast, Pine Tree." You bite the inside of your cheek and glance down at his lips, which curl up into an even larger smile and he's looking at you way too knowingly for your tastes when you make eye contact again. You stutter out something noncommittal and swallow compulsively, and his eyes flick downwards for just a moment like he's just as in love with your neck as you are with his and isn't that a thought.  
"I've been thinking." You raise an eyebrow as though you aren't fighting the urge to twist your fingers in his hair and pull him in to press your lips against his.  
"Yeah?" He nods.  
"You were right. Humans really are amazing. Especially this form, I don't even remember the last time I've felt so _much_..." It may as well be a moan, the way he draws it out, and right about when you notice how tight your pants are getting he presses himself up against you, warm and soft and spilling the drink on the ground. "Pine Tree, could you do me a favour?" You shift a little bit against him, and the way he moans into your ear just loudly enough to draw a _look_ from the bystander nearest you and gives a little experimental buck of his hips is enough to make you say,  
"Sure, a-anything you want, Bill." Your voice cracks on his name and you watch a shudder run through him as he locks eyes with you and whispers into your mouth,  
"Overwhelm me." Your throat is so dry and you mourn the puddle at your feet, all that's left of what was once a wonderful beverage. His eyes are burning through you, intense and so, so hungry. You nod, trying to swallow, but your throat feels like it's constricting and your breathing is uneven and, wow, okay, you need to calm down, you realise, and try some of those breathing exercises Mabel made you learn one day about a month ago when you almost passed out from hyperventilating (You blame Bill. And no, you don't want to talk about it). You close your eyes and hold your breath until you think you can keep it steady, but Bill incessantly grinding his hips against you is really not helping.  
"Okay, let's, let's, uh, get out of here. The Mystery Shack isn't too far away, we can just walk." You take his hand and the two of you vacate the premises together, and you pretend not to notice your sister making out with some random blonde on your way out. 

The walk home is full of tension; several people cross the street before they can pass next to you (the way the two of you are clinging to each other like you might give up and just start making out right there might have something to do with it), and Bill keeps whispering the things he wants you to do to him in your ear, sending shivers down your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Things like fingering him, sucking him off, leaving bite marks on his neck and shoulders and everywhere, and, what made you the most impatient to just get home already, sitting on top of him and staring into his eyes as you...  
"As you wrap your fingers around my neck and just squeeze, so gently at first, so that I huff a little and open my mouth to tell you I can take it, and then you'll tighten your grip and cut me off and I'll just go so limp, Pine Tree, and I'll squirm, beneath you, like you're the only thing..." Yeah, you need to get him in a bed already. 

The Mystery Shack is finally just right in front of you, and you try to let go of his hand so you can run, but he whines and grabs at it again so you're stuck walking up to it at a normal pace. You fumble several times trying to get the key in the lock, and then the door just opens, Apparently it wasn't even locked, and now you can't just sneak past Ford, who's looking at you like you melted down his thirty-eight sided die to make a lock pick to steal all his prized possessions or something, you don't even know, but then he just sighs and says,  
"It's your life, boy. I can't even blame you." And you feel like there's a lot of emotional baggage there you don't really want to deal with right now, so you just rush past him and up to your room. 

As soon as the door closes Bill is back up against you, and you remember him saying something about pushing him against a wall so you shove him against the door and even though you were unsure about it the moan it draws from his lips is totally worth it. His head falls back, and he spreads his legs so he can grind against your knee, and you realise your mouth is hanging open. You lunge forwards and press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck, letting the tip of your tongue brush his skin just barely as you pull away, and he makes this little gasping sound and swallows, and you watch his throat move. 

There's a tense moment where neither of you are moving, but just existing next to each other and breathing, waiting. Then you trace a finger over his throat and stroke his skin, so soft and beautifully coffee-coloured. His breath catches, and you take that as your cue to begin pressing down, and he keens, knees buckling, you let him rest his weight on your knee, pressed up against his crotch, and his mouth drops open like yours was a minute ago. 

His voice is quiet, breathy, desperate.  
"D-Dipper... please, please, f-fuck mmmmmahh, k-keep going, dammit." You've never been all that into begging if you're honest with yourself, and those noises he was making earlier were pretty amazing, so you decide not to give him a hard time. You let go of his neck and push your hands up under his shirt, and his back arches, which is kind of an extreme reaction to this kind of touching.  
"You alright?" He grins at you, and sucks in a deep breath.  
"Would you believe me if I told you nobody's ever gotten my shirt off me before?"  
"What, really?" Now you're even more impatient to see him. He nods, and bucks his hips against you again, so you take the hint and keep stroking, leaving him breathless by the time you're ready to rip his shirt off him if you have to. You lean down and whisper in his ear as you tug on the shirt,  
"Can I take this off you, please?" God, you just want to _see_ him. He nods, and you sigh in impatient relief. You let him get his feet back under him to take his shirt off, and he spins the two of you around so he can fall backwards onto your bed. You climb on top of him and let your mouth drop open at the sight of his skin, so amazing and smooth, and the obvious best choice in this situation is to put your mouth all over him, so you do, sucking and licking and biting which makes him jolt beneath you and cry out his nickname for you, and you think you could easily get addicted to the way he shouts it to the sky like a prayer for salvation. 

"Is this good, Bill?" He nods, and arches his back, only to fall back onto the bed again and shudder when you rock your hips against his. "You wanna move on?" Another nod, this time accompanied by a breathy gasp that sends electricity down your spine, so you climb off him and move down the bed, placing your hands on his hips and a kiss on his belly just above the waistline of his pants, which makes him shiver. You smirk and look up at him through your lashes, and his eyes are bright and the lines of his face form a desperate arc. 

God, you just want him. 

His cock is heavy in your hands, and his breath stutters out through his throat, which is beautiful, soft and you love it, he's amazing. You wrap your lips around his head, and his hips buck, which you were half expecting, so you don't choke, he's got a hand flung over his face that just shakes when you flick your tongue across him, and his other hand is clenching in your sheets, and you're so hard and it's his fault.  
"If we ruin my mattress I'm blaming you." He just nods distractedly and whines, uncovering his eyes to knit his fingers in your hair and nudge you back towards his dick, insistently gentle. You let out a breathy laugh that spirals out warm across his skin and he shivers, stutters out,  
"I love the way you breathe, god." You grin kind of lopsidedly at this evidence that he's just as into you, and make a 'go on' sort of gesture with your free hand. He licks at his lips and takes a deep breath. "The way you laugh and shout and it gets uneven when you stare at me and like you don't need air as much as looking at me, and the way your shoulders move when you inhale and what your face looks like when you sneeze and when you're out of breath from running. And that little huff of disbelief, and how warm it feels when you breathe against me and,, ahh, P-Pine Tr-- Dipper, god _Dipper_ , g-god, that's so, so _good_ I can't s-stand it,"

You had cut him off in the middle by licking up his shaft and then flicking your tongue back and forth across his frenulum, because you knew you'd come in your pants if you let him keep going on like that. It backfired, though, because now he's said your name, your actual real legitimate name, and it's somehow more intimate than you know how to bear, if he keeps moaning like that you _will_ lose it. You pull back then, and climb off the bed to get a book from your shelf, and he's looking at you like 'what the fuck' and he whimpers which you feel like a punch in the face but you open the book which you glued the pages together and hollowed out a while ago (Ford and Stan had gotten you a copy of the exact same Stanley Kubrick biography for your birthday one year and you didn't want to make one of them get you something else because that wouldn't be fair, so you just turned one copy into a secret compartment). You hold it out to Bill so he can choose between the three items contained therein. He takes out the lube and the collar but leaves the condoms, and then he's asking why you even have a collar so you rub the back of your neck and mumble something about your ex, which makes his eyebrows tilt downwards so you quickly suggest that you move on. He nods, and latches the collar around

 

 _his_ neck. You thought he just got it out to ask you about it, and even if you had known he wanted to use it you would have assumed he'd want it around yours, because even though he's been telling you stuff to do to him, and not that he wants to do to you, he's still been very commanding about it, and he's also an all-powerful dream demon? so you just thought...

He's looking at you with this smug-amused-ridiculous look on his face, so you just shake your head a little and climb back atop him, grabbing the lube out of his hands as you do so. You sigh, against his neck, and he bites down on his lower lip, shifting under you just a bit. You take hold of his wrists and press them down to the bed on either side of his head, and he lets out this rattley sort of wrecked breath that has you feeling warm all over, all over again. You smirk down at him, and he grins at you, sort of apprehensive but mostly impatient, so you lean down to press your lips against his. He immediately lets his mouth open against yours, and his tongue darts out to swipe over your lower lip. You press him harder against the bed and drag your teeth across his upper lip as he's gasping into your mouth, and you smirk inwardly at the incredible noises you're pulling out of him. Not being able to touch you has him a whole new kind of needy, and he's whining, pressing himself against you as well as he can, clenching and unclenching fists when you press your thigh between his legs for him to rub against. You break the kiss, and he struggles beneath you, pressing himself up into you and trying to chase after your lips. You lean down to whisper in his ear, ask,  
"How're we doing?" and all the fight goes out of him, he just goes limp on the bed beneath you and blows his bangs out of his face.  
"Fine. Just, hurry, where the fuck is the lube?" You release one of his wrists to grab it off the pillow, but he just keeps it where it is, and when you let the other one go too to flick the cap open and squeeze some out onto your hands, he stays down, acting like you're still holding him. It's strange, but also one hell of a power trip, until you realise his pants are still on and you have lube all over your hands still. You cuss, and look at him like 'help me.' He chuckles, and squirms out of his pants, placing his wrists back where you were holding him when he's finished and they've been tossed across the room to end up, probably, behind Mabel's bed. You'll worry about it later. 

His eyes widen at first, and then droop closed as you press in a finger, and the uncontrolled way his face shifts with your every movement has you wanting to shed your own pants. You swallow, and push it in a little further, drawing a confused and somewhat startled moan from him. You twist, and wiggle, and by the time you feel like you could fit in another finger he's subtly twitching towards you every couple of seconds, mouth hanging open, wrists still held by his head.

You slide in a second finger, and his back arches off the bed, accompanied by a quiet, sort of lost sounding 'oh fuck.' You give him a moment to breathe, because he's tensed up, and eventually he relaxes and makes eye contact with you. He nods laboriously. You spread your fingers carefully, and he whines, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side as if to hide from you. You pause, and he takes a few deep breaths before nodding again. You twist your hand around so your palm faces the ceiling and crook your fingers, dragging them back out and pressing against his front wall, looking for the spot that'll make him-- that just now made him cry out and lift his hands to cover his face, and buck his hips into your hand. You smirk, mainly to yourself, and pull your fingers out (a disappointed groan from Bill), reaching up to grab his wrists and press his hands to the bed by his head again. He shudders, and lifts his hips off the bed, so you return your attention to his amazing ass with a roll of your eyes (god, he's beautiful).

When you begin to push your fingers back in and his muscles spasm around you, he swallows, and chokes out,  
"Can you, d-do that thing again, Dipper?" You nod, and do 'that thing,' swallowing compulsively at the expression it puts on his face and the way his fingers twitch like he wants to cover it up again. He's staring into your eyes, and you bite your lip, making him glance downward momentarily. "Again," he demands and you can't bring yourself to deny him anything, not when he's peeling you apart with a single look, clenching around you in a way that promises good things to come, pressing himself against you and squirming, open-mouthed, open. You jam your fingers back into that spot, and his knee comes up to grind against the bulge in your pants. You press yourself down against him and crook your fingers again.  
"Nngh, Dipper, that's so good." You nod, and keep doing it, because his keening and desperation is sending shivers all through your body and his thigh is just the right shape for grinding on. 

He looks up at you like he wants you against him, so you let yourself fall down to lay on top of him, and he sighs comfortably and tucks his head into your neck, still pressing himself down onto your fingers, still moaning straight into your ear. You rock your hips against him in the same rhythm you have for his prostate, and you feel something building up and before you can think too hard about what it could be you're tumbling over the edge and your pants feel sticky all of a sudden and you have to stop rubbing yourself against him because it's too much. You pause to take a deep breath and he cracks an eye open to look up at you. You're feeling kind of sleepy, but you tap your fingers against the spot on his front wall anyway, and you get to watch his face contort and his mouth fall open as he stumbles for his words so you guess this is pretty nice even though it isn't sleeping. He looks so beautifully lost, helpless, and you love that, especially when he's gasping out your name, curling in on himself as well as he can with you in the way, wrapping his legs around your waist and losing himself in it, mouth open, breath short, the look in his eyes only bested by the sounds he's making, jumbling up the syllables of your name with moans and whimpers and cries of 'so close' and 'don't you fucking stop.'

He gets quieter right before he comes, and the finale is this exquisite, fragile, faltering little moan that seems louder and bigger and more important than any other sound you've heard even though it's the quietest noise he's made all night. It's long, and high, and drawn out so thin it could break in your hands, practically, and it matches him perfectly, the pointed way it pierces straight through you like his eyes and whenever he looks at you, the easy way it smooths out the rippling thoughts in your mind and places your focus just on him (like the feeling of his skin against you, electrifying), the way it hangs in the air like he does whenever he's alone, away from people who don't know of him and shouldn't, or who do but shouldn't be reminded of what he is, and it's a three pronged attack that has your mind swimming and your skin singing with amazement at him and how perfect he is. 

He goes limp beneath you, breathing hard, and it's your turn to hide your face in his neck, because he's just incredible, beautiful and irreverent and flawless. Perfectly flawed. Like a blue diamond, hard and strong and impure, imperfect, because without imperfections he'd just be clear, bland, boring, but he's blue, blue and beautiful and yours, if he wants to be, he can. 

He lifts his head a little, and then tilts it to whisper in your ear.  
"Wow." You grin against his neck, and nod minutely in agreement.  
"Yeah." The buzz of alcohol still lingers in the back of your mind, and it feels nice, like you can just lay here forever, with Bill, in the room you share with your sister, and everything'll be just fine. You sigh, and hug him closer, and he squirms out of your grasp for just a moment to grab your blanket and drape it over the two of you, snuggling back into your embrace once he's satisfied. You let out a puff of air against his neck and feel him shiver beneath you. Maybe you'll take advantage of that in the morning, but for now, you're completely spent. You think he is too.  
"Pine Tr-- Dipper?" You swallow, and lift your head so you can make eye contact.  
"Yeah?" The left corner of his mouth quirks up, and you find yourself smiling back at him.  
"This was nice." You nod, and snuggle further into him as you let your head fall back onto his shoulder, a sleepy grin on your face that you'd be sure looks stupid if you were awake enough to care. 

He's right. This was nice.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo QuickySand I know this isn't exactly what I promised you but this one is finished and the other one isn't XD


End file.
